


he smells expensive

by Psuedorabbit



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Akashi Seijuro - Freeform, Angst, Fluff, I suck at tags, It gets better I promise, KnB - Freeform, Kuroko no Basket - Freeform, M/M, Massage, NSFW, Rakuzan - Freeform, Seirin, Sex, akafuri - Freeform, akashi x furihata, bye, furihata kouki - Freeform, generation of miracles - Freeform, in chapter one furihata is bullied by akashis ex girlfriend, in chapter two akashi gives kouki a massage then they fuck, knb gom, kurobas - Freeform, kuroko no basuke - Freeform, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7216879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psuedorabbit/pseuds/Psuedorabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i got two akafuri requests so i decided to combine them together:<br/>chapter one: "Can I request Akashi x Furihata? Furihata being bullied then Akashi coming in to save him."<br/>chapter two: "Okay, how about the akashi x furi first time with kouki being all nervous and almost pissing his pants XD"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first chapter is only verbally violent, second is fluffy and nsfw so theres that

“I heard he left her for another man!”

“So did I! You know, I didn’t think Akashi was the type to swing that way. Who knows, maybe you can make him swing both ways.” Both girls giggled by their lockers.

Akashi Seijuro dumped his girlfriend two weeks ago, and no one knew why. That was, until someone found out that he was dating another man. _A man_.

His ex girlfriend walked down the hall as the two other girls spoke, her ears perking.

She stops, walks towards them with a fake smile. Immediately, the two friends pause with their conversation, a look of distaste clear on their features.

“Can we help you?” The first asks, and the ex sneers.

“So I’ve heard rumors that Seijuro is bringing his boyfriend around. Is that true?” She asks, receives two nods in response. Good to know, she thinks.

Later on in the day, the woman hears the same story from other students, finding out that the new boyfriend is named Furihata Kouki, and he’s from the rival school Seirin. He’s going to be attending Akashi’s basketball practice.

The school day comes and goes easy enough, silent rage encouraging the woman onward with her necessary activities, if only for a short while.

She waits outside of the gymnasium, drowning out the sounds of rubber shoe bottoms squeaking against the polished wood floors. She supposes that timeliness isn’t of essence in Furihata’s case.

Finally, the woman spots a lone figure coming towards the gym, wearing a black, red, and white jacket that she guessed read ‘Seirin.’ This was probably Furihata.

Putting on one of her many smiles, she pushes herself off of the wall she leaned against, walking toward the man. He regards her warily, shifting the bag on his shoulder.

“I must look lost, don’t I? Ah.. This is the gymnasium, right?” Oh and how sweet he sounded.

“It is. And I know why you’re here,” She says easily, arms crossed lightly over her chest, looking up at him with an even wider smile. Furihata looked at her with a faze of uncertainty, and shock.

“You know you’re just a rebound right? Like one of his basketball moves. Seijuro is in love with me, and once he’s done playing around with his little toy- that’s you, by the way- then he’ll realize what he left behind. And that person won’t be you.” She ends her sentence by pressing the tip of her index finger into the apex of the man’s chest.

“And you know something else? I’ve gathered enough information about you to know that you’re not even in the general vicinity of what Seijuro needs in a significant other. You can’t even give him children!” She cries, the perfect smile etched onto her face was beginning to go sour with displeasure. The scorned woman steps closer to the visibly hurt Furihata, as he steps backwards.

“To think, _my Seijuro_ , pursuing.. _This_ ,” she waves her hands at Furihata’s physique as emphasis.

Furihata can’t find it in himself to speak- he knows she’s right, in her own sick way. He can’t give Akashi kids, he isn’t rich and elegant like him, Christ, _he isn’t even that good at basketball._

He opens his mouth to speak, but another one interrupts him. It was Seijuro in person, standing right beside them.

“I’ll have to excuse myself for not coming sooner. Kouki, I’d like to apologize for this woman’s words,” the redhead begins, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Furihata shrugs a little, cowering away from both figures. Both Akashi and his ex girlfriend were starting to argue with each other, the latter throwing around curses and empty threats. Furihata honestly felt sick- had he of known he broke them up, he might not have agreed to even go out with the man, just to save him from this trouble.

“Furihata, we’re leaving.” It was the sense of finality in his words that stopped the woman from yelling, and what pulled Furihata towards the gymnasium along with the Captain.

Once the boys were safely inside, Akashi turns to Furihata, a look of disdain swimming in crimson orbs.

“I’m very sorry about.. Whatever that was. It seems she’s still upset about me leaving her.” He sighs, both hands reaching out to take the other man’s, locking their fingers together. Furihata felt warm by just that small notion, his gaze falling to the floor.

“Don’t worry about it. Anyone would be upset if they had to let someone like you go, I imagine.” Furihata felt embarrassed by saying those words, the warmth in his cheeks intensifying into a dull burn.

Akashi laughs, leans forward to pepper soft kisses along the other man’s cheek bones and nose.

“Aren’t you the poet this evening?”

“I don’t think so.”

They continue on with idle conversation, Akashi occasionally giving out orders to his team each time they finished a task. Earlier, Akashi had the team meet Furihata respectfully, and things seemed to turn out well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nsfw vomit inducing garbage

They continue on with idle conversation, Akashi occasionally giving out orders to his team each time they finished a task. Earlier, Akashi had the team meet Furihata respectfully, and things seemed to turn out well.

Fast forward a few more days, and Furihata is sitting in Akashi's house- no, manor, on an Alcott sofa. Tufted back, slope arms and a beautiful honey oak wooden base brought out the natural tone and texture variation in the leather.

The Akashi family sure did have expensive tastes.

Furihata feels out of place, as if his very existence would shatter the picturesque scenery before him, with his simple street clothing and roused hair. He even thinks there’s probably some form of scabbed over gash on the back of his left calf, when it got caught on the chain of his bike two days earlier. 

Perhaps he looked like some sort of beggar, but judging by the warm smile offered to him by Akashi as he walked in calmed his nerves, if even a little.

“You seem tense, sweetheart. Is something wrong?” The honey sweet inquiry causes heat to rush to the other’s cheeks, wielding nothing but a halfhearted shrug in return.

“Not really. I just keep thinking about the other day, you know? It still bothers me.” At his confession, it causes a frown to pull at Akashi’s muscles. The redhead situates himself next to Furihata, takes both of his hands into his own. The somber look in the flame of Akashi’s eyes made the other’s heart constrict. 

“Kouki, I want you to know that whatever that jealous witch said you isn’t true. I wasn’t there to hear most of it, but the little I did was more than enough,” he shifts closer, invading more of Kouki’s personal space. “I also need you know that things like these are going to happen whether we like it or not, and I want to be able to get by them with you.” Furihata was flattered, really.

Although, he still felt tense. Especially with  Amber Aoud Absolue Precieux filling his nose and clouding his mind. Akashi even  _ smelled _ expensive.

Furihata merely nodded, a little laugh tugging from his throat and pressed an innocent kiss to the man’s lips briefly. Kissing the man has gotten easier-- it’s just making out that really wears him out. The act of it makes Furihata tremble with the nervousness of a virgin, (which he was, but fuck, did he really have to have it be so obvious?) and want to just quit all together.

“Allow me to strip the tension from your bones,” it sounded all too innocent, but the first year could only think otherwise as his cheeks bloomed a new shade of red, beginning to shake his head in denial.

“A simple massage, Kouki, I insist. I’ll stop and start at your desire, and be gentle. Think of it as an apology for previous events.” Furihata can’t find it in himself to deny him of anything really, only taking a deep inhale of breath and nodding.

“I guess.. If you  _ insist.” _ And with that, Furihata was lugged away upstairs, along the spiral of the steel staircase leading to the second story, then down the cherrywood corridor toward what Furihata assumed was Akashi’s bedroom. His guess was as good as anyone’s really; the man could probably have a room in the house for every little thing.

A door at the end of the hall, tucked away behind a jut out white wall is now in front of the pair, the black polished door swinging open. The bedroom was dim, blanketed with darkness that was created by the thick black curtains obscuring sunlight from entering from the large french doors leading to what Furihata inferred as a balcony.

As he looked further, he noticed a bed, fairly large and what could probably be king sized, with a matching black outfit covering the mattress, black steel posts around the edge of it.

It was a large room, the floor  the same type of wood as the hallway, cool against Furihata’s bare feet. He exhales lowly, Akashi flickering on the ceiling light and that’s when the Seirin student noticed the large bookcase pressed against the majority of the wall to his right. A desk and swivel chair rest across from it, alongside the bed. 

“Sorry for the mess.” Furihata could have choked on his spit, had his mouth hadn’t gone dry the moment he walked in.

“Akashi, your room looks like it came out of some catalog!” He can’t help the childlike edge to his voice, stepping further inside and seated himself on the large bed. It sucked him in like poison, the mattress soft and almost weightless beneath him. He falls forward, nose buried in the sheets; it smelled like him, and he feels his face warm in embarrassment.

Akashi chuckles, shuts the door behind him and goes off to retrieve something. Furihata feels like he could fall asleep, the setting all too providing for a very nice nap.

The captain comes back with an armful of white candles, which show evidence of previous use, and a bottle of something clear that Furihata couldn’t quite make out, and a lighter.

“What’s that?” Furihata asks, watches the man set the candles down in areas closer to the bed and light them. Akashi then strides to the wall, flicking the lights back off. The room is illuminated in a dark hue, shadows flickering as the flames of the candles danced with the currents of the air conditioning.

“Mood setters. I want you too feel as comfortable as possible.” Ah right, that makes sense.

Furihata eyes the bottle, shifting closer to take it into his hands and reads the front label. It’s cinnamon scented oil. Furihata admits he isn’t exactly one for strong scents, but once he pops the lid and sniffs, he can’t hide the smile growing.

The oil wasn’t too pungent, wasn’t too strong and spicy. It was dull to the senses, carrying a delightful sweetness and spice to it that he admires.

“Darling, you should take your shirt off for this.” Akashi sits himself on the bed, on his knees. Furihata has never felt more pressured in his life than he had at this moment.

“A-Ah.. Can’t we leave it on? I mean..” Akashi laughed a little, gently tugging the hem of Furihata’s shirt upward. Furihata didn’t protest, and the shirt came off quickly and was tossed into the nearby swivel chair. Goosebumps prickled the younger’s skin, and his arms crossed over his body to try and have some semblance of modesty.

Gentle, warm hands are ghosting across the boy’s hips, gently pushing and prodding until Furihata was lying face down again, arms crossed in front of his head, clenching at the pristine sheets beneath him. They had to be at least 1,000 thread count, if not more.

He feels weight shifting, a warm pressure on his ass and the back of his thighs and Furihata feels like he might puke. Akashi was sitting on him, rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt.

“You know you’re very comfortable.” He teases, enlightening the mood. He’s even more amused as the boy below him tries and fails to come up with a comprehensible sentence, only succeeding with burying his face into the bedding.

The cool oil is dribbled onto the smooth plane of Furihata’s back, and Akashi seems to be in a trance, watching the liquid follow the dips and curves and pool into the dimples on the boy’s hips.

Akashi’s hands start to rub the oil into the expanse of Furihata’s entire back, as if he’s painting a canvas. A very beautiful canvas. He gets his shoulders as well, thin fingers squeezing and kneading into taut muscle.

Once the oil has successfully touched every inch of exposed skin, Akashi clasps both hands together, beginning to press hard into what he felt were the tightest points of Furihata’s back. The actions result in muffled moans, the body beneath him beginning to squirm. Akashi can’t deny the heat rising on his cheeks, the sounds piercing him as something of a suggestive sound. He wills himself to ignore them, tells himself that he’s only pressing down harder to get rid of the knots faster, not to hear the man’s moans and mewls.

Furihata was unraveling, and doing so rather quickly.

Akashi paused in his ministrations, palms pressed flat against the small of Furihata’s back and leans closer. His bright red locks tickle the sensitive skin of the boy’s neck, lips gently pressing against the curvature of his jaw. Furihata simply tilted his his head to the side, allowing further actions. Akashi can’t deny that he wasn’t surprised, but he didn’t hesitate in exploring the boy’s body further, knuckles pressing against muscle on either side of the boy’s spine, eliciting another round of groans.

“You sound like you’re either really enjoying it, or really hurting.”

“Kind of a mixture of both, but I’ll probably die if you stop.” Akashi snickers at that, burying his face in the crook of Furihata’s neck as he slowly rubs his hands upward, pressing down firmly. 

"You look so good like this.” The captain can feel his boyfriend’s skin heat up at the compliment, feels him squirm more under his touch.

Akashi leans back, undoes the buttons of his shirt without having Furihata notice. It joins the other shirt on his chair, and now both men bask in the candlelight, shirtless and equally aroused.

“Furihata.” His tone is soft, firm, inviting and oozing confidence. Furihata stiffens, head slowly craning to look up at the man, instantly going red at the sight.

“What.. What are you doing?” He inquires, shifts so his weight is settled on one of his elbows. Akashi wasn’t that heavy, surprisingly.

Akashi smiles at him- radiant and absolutely nerve wracking. “I want you to lay on your back for me. Turn around and look me in the eyes.” Akashi explains, as he settles himself onto the bed beside the boy.

Doing as he’s told, Furihata finds himself laying back, the redhead now between his legs with those slim fingers dancing up his thighs to rest on his belt.

Immediately Furihata’s hands fly towards his, stuttering out something along the lines of,  _ “are you fucking insane??”  _ and  _ “this is too much-” _

Akashi hushes him with a light kiss to his lips, grabbing at the offending hands to lace their digits together in a tight embrace.

“Kouki, I want you to know that if this isn’t something you want to do, then I’m perfectly okay with it, and I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable,” Furihata feels a little ridiculous now, but he can’t ignore the swelling anxiety in the pit of his core.

“I.. I want to. I’m just- I’m a little scared. I’m not exactly.. Skilled at this..” If Furihata’s trembling hands were any kind of indication of his nervousness, Akashi more than picked up on it. He kisses them, lips rosy and bright against the lightly tanned skin of Kouki’s wrist and palm.

“If it’s something you want at the moment, rest assured that I’ll make it as easy and comfortable as I can for you.” He assures, his body scooting closer to the other.

There’s a long moment of silence, and Akashi is beginning to think that he ruined their day together, worry lines appearing on his face. He’s about to say something, but he stops as Furihata hesitantly drapes his arms over the readhead’s shoulders.

“I won’t do this for anyone but you, okay? Please just- be gentle.” Mutual agreement follows, lips littering featherlight kisses against an outstretched neck and jawline.

They fall into the bed together, and at the moment both are sated with just kissing- the acts fueled with muffled desire and heady undertones. Both men have to part to breathe every once in awhile, only to then delve back into one another when oxygen was gathered.

Once again, Furihata’s belt and jeans were tampered with, this time they weren’t obstructed. Akashi took his time, allowing his touches to linger as the rough fabric was slowly removed, tossed once more to the swivel chair. 

Kouki squirms, now clad in only green and black polka dot boxers. He feels embarrassed now- especially when he sees the  _ very  _ expensive Herme’s woven boxers as the man’s pants are being removed. Wealth oozed from the man all the way down to his  _ underwear,  _ and it made Furihata salivate.

He knots his fingers into the back of red tresses, tugs lightly in response to the fleeing touches to his abdomen and exposed thighs. He wasn’t perfect by any means, no. He had an ingrown hair on the back of his thigh and tan marks from his swimsuit. Was that scar still there from that diving board accident?

On the other hand, Akashi was absolutely flawless, in Kouki’s eyes. Not a scar or blemish on the milky skin, just soft muscle and unmarked skin stretched nicely over them.

He feels inferior, tries to not let it show. Furihata’s eyes squeeze shut, timidly ruts his clothed cock against the heated thigh between his own, creating a delicious friction that caused shivers to rush up both men’s spines.

“A-Akashi, I’m..” Furihata pauses; what was he going to say? He can’t seem to recall, since the man above him is now shamelessly rolling his hips into a figure eight against his own hips. It stole the breath from his lungs, and every bit of nervousness was tossed out the window.

He feels a fire in his belly, an enriched flame taking over his irises as he lounges for another kiss, wraps his long, calloused fingers around the captain’s hips to hold him tight and still against his cock.

Eventually they find a rhythm they both agree to- steady, firm rocking with one another’s hands down the front of their underwear. Furihata had never in a thousand years touched a cock that wasn’t his own, but it wasn’t exactly unpleasant. In fact, the boy enjoyed stroking the appendage over and over again, as if he were touching himself. Once he feels something ooze onto his hand, is when the captain is starting to become vocal, sighing softly into Furihata’s mouth, the heat and sweetness causing another round of shivers to wrack his frame.

They pull away from each other now, tossing their last pieces of clothing onto the floor this time. They were simply too desperate to care at this point, too needy to head any sort of attention to a pair of $500 boxers on the floor joining a pair of $5 ones.

Furihata’s thighs are spread obscenely wide, and he’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t too busy moaning his appreciation to the kisses his thighs were receiving into the fluffy pillows he lay on.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
Lubricant is retrieved from the black nightstand, a small dark blue thing, promising heat when rubbed and the scent of  _ midnight mist,  _ whatever that was.

The preparation process was indeed long, and a little tedious on Akashi’s end, but nevertheless was he patient for Kouki. Four digits deep and wide, and Furihata is clawing at the mattress with the ferocity of a caged lion, teeth bared and tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

An extremely generous amount of light blue tinted goo is coating Akashi’s cock now, pulsating and throbbing with the interveinal need to just  _ dive in._ He knows he can’t, instead lines himself up at the glistening hole presented so nicely for him. 

It appears to be breathing, the way that it clenches at the cool air for something to grasp onto, for something to drink dry and ravish to its mercy.

Akashi is stroking the entirety of his shaft between the two firm muscles, grunting as the head of him slips in the tight ring. Both men are vocal now, hands wandering one another’s bodies as they intertwine into one being.

Time slipped from both of each other- when they came, they weren’t sure who did it first, or how long their copulation lasted before the awaited moment. Neither man seemed to care too much, and the wax dripping onto the floor was only an afterthought not quite acted upon in favor of tangling their legs together beneath the thick comforter.               
Akashi threads his dexterous fingers through sex mussed hair, combs out the knots gently and peppers kisses along Furihata’s face as the boy clings to reality, consciousness fading in and out.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr at knb-garbage-writing.tumblr.com to request stuff when my box is open, and its always open for confessions/talk even if im not taking scenario/fanfic requests/headcanons


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